observations and confrontations
by Hexikon
Summary: House investigates Thirteens lovelife and the results are at least surprising... slash, femslash, bad words; don't like - don't read
1. exploring

_Monday afternoon, Wilson's office, House storms through the balcony door - needless to say - without knocking_:

"Hey, Wilson!" A well known voice came from out of nowhere, interrupting his paperwork for the third time today. He sighed and put down his pen.

"I've made some interesting observations..."

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Well Sherlock, what happened? Did you just realize that the planets rotate around the sun and not around you?"

"No, I just congratulated myself for hiring Thirteen, it's so much fun to watch her courtship behaviour" House said with a bright smile.

"Congratulations from me too. Could you please let me work now?" Wilson sighed.

"Where would be the fun in that?" House's eyes flickered. "She's in love – with another girl." House paused to flash Wilson a kicked puppy look. "I asked her who it was, but she wouldn't tell me."

Wilson rolled his eyes again. "How surprising. And as I know you're a diagnostician, and you love interfering into everybody's love life - what's your plan to find out?"

"Don't know yet... She's writing text-messages the whole day and grins like a cat that ate the canary while doing it. And then she sneaks out and chirps into her cell, so it can't be anyone working at the hospital. "

"Impressive, you managed to exclude 1500 people. Only a few million possible love-interests left. By the way - how do you know it's a girl? I thought she was bisexual."

House explained in a theatrical manner, "Nooo, she has to be a lesbian. She didn't try to jump me like Cameron or Cuddy did."

Wilson sighed. "Neither did I. You obviously have the biggest ego known to man."

House interrupted, grinning mischievously, "You're not looking forward to hot girl-on-girl-action in the hospital's exam rooms? Are you gay?"

"Yes," Wilson batted his eyelashes "I'd love to jump you right now, but I have work to do. Could you please leave me alone now? Steal her cell, break open her locker, do the usual stuff."

"I have to say, those are some really good ideas, killjoy. And no, no time for a naughty office quickie." House almost jumped the balcony divider and disappeared into his office.

Wilson wondered what methods House would use this time to find out what Thirteen surely didn't want him to find out and prepared himself for the first complaint from House's latest underling.


	2. observations

_Jogging park – Thirteen is leaning against a tree, talking into her cellphone, looking a little angry, cheeks crimson. House limps as quietly as possible around the corner and tries to overhear the conversation._

"I miss you. Why can't we meet tonight?" She glared into nowhere, her tone changing until she was almost shouting. "No, I did not forget you have a boyfriend. Tell him you have a goddamn conference or something stupid tonight. It's my birthday, and I have a right to celebrate it with the girl I love. Lie to him or just fuck off" Her voice had cracked at this point, tears welling in her eyes and she snapped her phone shut. The young doctor stormed past House, having not recognized him at all in her sudden rage. So, it definitely was a woman, obviously also bisexual, obviously in another relationship with a man.

"Well, dear minions, you're always getting into trouble if daddy doesn't watch you," House said to himself and went back to hiding in his office, avoiding Cuddy, and making up a list of candidates in his mind.

At home again, House flopped onto the couch with a beer, and was just switching on the TV when he heard a key in the lock. He looked at his watch. 7:30 pm – very early for Wilson to be leaving the bald dying kids. And, adding to the strangeness of the situation, it was Amber's day with Wilson. The younger doctor walked in, looking tense and disappointed.

"You're coming to jump me?" he mocked, trying to cheer up Wilson.

The younger doctor just rolled his eyes. "Amber is busy tonight, so I came here, looking forward to silly movies and you mocking me." He still looked sad.

"Dont whine, buddy. Sit down. News about upcoming girl-on-girl-action in the hospital on the way," he announced, grinning and looking nasty.

Wilson sat beside House, trying to relax and waiting for him to go on with his newest discoveries.

"Thirteen is the mistress of another bisexual woman. And she made her lie to her boyfriend to celebrate her birthday with her today. Isn't it romantic?" He laughed out loud.

"Why exactly is cheating and lying to another person a romantic gesture?"

"I'm sure fucking Thirteen as a birthday present is not really a bad thing. I can imagine her licking like Lassie. And I'm sure you can add romantic stuff to that in your mind." He nearly drooled.

Wilson stared at him and shook his head in disgust. "Let's get back to watching movies."

"That's just what I planned. Let's watch The L-word..."

And so they did. When Wilson came home to the apartment he and Amber shared he was totally drunk and went straight to bed.

The next morning, Taub and Kutner were already in the conference-room, brooding over their coffees. House walked in, nearly smashing the door open. Looking around he noticed Thirteen was still missing.

Kutner jumped in with an excuse: "It was her birthday yesterday, House, I'm sure she'll be here in a minute."

And so she was, nearly floating out of the elevator. Her hair was a mess, and there was a huge hickey on her neck.

She had just entered the room when House announced, "So, naughty lesbian birthday child – just back from muff-diving?"

Thirteen looked shocked for a moment, then batted her eyelashes and chirped exaggeratingly, "Envious because you're not getting any?"

Kutner's and Taub's jaws dropped in synchronization at the blunt banter. House grinned, trying to erase the lesbian porn scenes invading his mind.

His actual case was a 63-year old female seizing and vomiting alternately. After shocking her heart back into sinus rhythm for the third time, House went back to his office in order to get his backpack and hurry home. Then he recognized that Thirteen had left her small blue calendar on the conference table.

He limped to conference room next to his office and flipped the pages until he found yesterdays entry: DINNER AT ANTONIOS WITH A. He frowned at the heart drawn beside it; it reminded him of a 14-year-old with her first crush. He flipped to the part of the calendar with the addresses and checked for further evidence. SHIT! There were no more clues. He closed it and threw it back on the table. He walked over to his bike and drove home – he needed to process a plan.


	3. confrontations

The next day he managed to trap Thirteen in the lab. She was alone, sitting at the microscope in concentration. She flinched at the intruder blocking the doorway.

"Soooo, who´s A.?" House smirked.

Thirteen looked up from the oculars and tried to keep her composure. "I really think that is none of your business," she said icily.

House batted his eyelashes. "Hey, you know you can trust me. I won't tell anyone."

"Everybody lies, House. Are you afraid I am intruding your territory? I am quite sure there is no danger, no chance we have the same taste in women. Or, if you're really just curious, we could make a deal: tell me your love secret, I will tell you mine" the young doctor said, quite sure he wouldn't answer that and focused on her work.

That was an interesting statement. He noticed Thirteen's ever present cell phone on the table beside her. There was no way he could take a look without her noticing. He hobbled out of the door. Thirteen sighed with relief. It would be a damn disaster if he ever found out who she was with, she would never hear the end of it.


	4. honour

_Late evening. Amber's dark apartment. She enters, drops her purse on the cupboard and switches the lights on. House is sitting in her swivel chair, twirling his cane around, grinning wickedly at her._ _She glares at him._

"House, I'm feeling honoured by your presence, but some people are a little creeped out by middle aged cripples breaking and entering their apartments. So, what do you want this time? I don't have on Wilson's shirt and I don't want to work for you. So, just spill it, I want to sleep!"

"Honour to whom honour is due, my dear cutthroat bitch. You're cheating on Wilson!" he stated, observing her reaction. It was just a guess.

She didn't even flinch, instead she smirked mischievously: "Oh, really? Too bad there is no proof of that, even for a god-like diagnostician."

"You might be really clever in hiding your little journey into homo-land, but your little love-nugget is so absorbed in smiling, that she forgets to delete the text messages you sent her." With a broad grin, he produced Thirteen's cell out of his pocket and read out loud, "Told J. I had a meeting. Believed me without asking. Dumbass. Come at 8 to 'celebrate.' Wow, this is a real piece of poetry."

Amber's smirk had faded. Her mouth was a small line, her facial expression a mixture of embarrassment and fury. She hated being caught red-handed. "So what? What do you want to get out of it? Do you want to run back to Wilson and sell me out? What do you think he would do? Cry on your shoulder and search for comfort in a pity fuck? Forget it, House, he wouldn't even believe you. Don't pretend that you care about his feelings." By the end of her answer she was nearly yelling.

"You think that's what I want? I'm glad I did not hire you. That is a really screwed-up diagnostic attempt." He faked a smile, in fact the diagnosis had not that bad. Not that he would ever admit that.

"Maybe I will tell him how much you want to ravish him every time he works late and just the two of you are left alone in the big bad hospital. You are so sweet – composing piano pieces named "for JW" and hiding them in your office drawer under your porn collection." She batted her eyelids coyishly. "Sometimes we're really alike, the only difference is – I get it both ways and you get it neither."

House left the room nearly without noise.

tbc.


	5. solidarity

House was early for work for the first time in years. He had to get out of his apartment in order clear his mind. He threw the grey-red ball against the office door and it bounced back with a soft "thump". Again and again. He had totally underestimated cutthroat bitch – again. And how the fuck did she know about the sheets of music in the drawer? He turned in his chair, put the ball down and looked over to the desk drawer. He inspected the lock and discovered that it had been picked. Great! Some ducklings obviously needn´t be told how to cheat and steal. House opened the drawer and rummaged around under the DVDs. Fuck! The sheets were gone, the bitch had collected the evidence.

He had written the piano-pieces one rainy day when there had been no case and he had watched Wilson on the balcony from the corner of his eye. The younger man had been heavily leaning against the balcony wall, his face buried in his hands. Probably he had been crying out there. The evening sun had illuminated Wilson´s hair so that it had looked like fluid copper against the too pale skin. The picture had been heartbreaking – beautiful and painful at the same moment. And House being House had not been able to walk out and comfort him. He sucked at that. So he wanted to express his feelings with one of the few things that were easy for him – writing music and inviting Wilson to his apartment in the evening. But of course he hadn´t had the balls to actually play it, too afraid that Wilson could have realized what he meant to him.

House had been so absorbed in his memories that he hadn´t seen Wilson standing in front of him clearing his throat. He flinched at the sight of the younger man. Arms folded in front of his chest, one eyebrow drawn up he stood there, a virtual question mark above his head.

"Wow, where were you? Porn at eight in the morning? Ran out of hookers? Never mind, but could you please spill your body fluids on your carpet at home..."

"Well actually it is more fun with you watching." House cringed a little at his own words. Thank god no one took him seriously.

"Too bad I have to disappoint you. I´m not really into watching middle aged men masturbate in their offices."

"Then why are you even here?"

"Thirteen is running around in the hallways like she was in murderous frenzy. Any explanations?"

At that moment the door swung open with such a violence, it was a miracle the glass didn´t shatter. Passing Wilson entered a furious Thirteen.

She glared at House and yelled: "What were you thinking? First you steal my cell and then you break into my girlfriend´s apartment. Is there anything you respect about peoples´s privacy?"

Wilson stared at her flabbergastedly. House held his breath and tried to behave like his normal sarcastic self.

"First - I didn´t steal it, you left it on the conference room table yesterday and I kept it for you. And second she´s not your girlfriend, she´s stepping a little to the side with you. She probably will have married her boyfriend by the end of the year. Sorry to confront you with the evil truth."

He produced the cell out of his jacket pocket and dropped it on the desk.

She picked it up, turned on her heels and nearly ripped the door handle off on her way out. But then she stopped. Wilson watched her totally confused. House looked at the pencils on the desk like he had never seen them before.

Thirteen smiled bitterly: "Yeah, if that marriage ever happens we can meet, get wasted together and curse the persons we love." With a pitiful glance at Wilson she left.

Then there was silence. House kept focused on the details of the things on his desk. Wilson rubbed his neck, his gaze still fixed on the doorway.

Wilson was the first to break the silence: "Sooo, I guess you discovered her dirty secret. Harassing the secret girlfriend is low, even for you. I thought you would stop that after you visited Amber a few weeks ago." House flinched. "But what exactly should make you wallow in your sorrow together? Unless you are interested in the same person. I thought you also stopped dating women that are not on the market anymore since your night with Stacy. This is weird, but it explains your grumpy mood. So who is she? I´m curious." He poked House in the ribs and smiled.

Fotunately sometimes Wilson was really dense. Or his own heterosexual image was really convincing. Wilson also had not noticed the plural ending in Thirteens last sentence. Otherwise...no, he didn´t really want to think about that.

"Actually, as you say, I won´t date someone who isn´t on the market so I am not gonna make an idiot out of myself by telling you what I´ve gotten myself into." He gave the ball a little push so that it landed on Wilson´s abdomen and limped past him to the conference room.

Wilson was confused. House always trusted him with such things. Why would he not do that now?


	6. innocence

**rating: PG (higher in later chapters)  
pairing: Wilson/Amber, hints of House/Wilson, implied Thirteen/Amber  
warnings: you don´t need to be warned, maybe Wilson should  
summary: just a conversation and a sandwich and still clueless!Wilson. He is puzzled by House´s behaviour and asks exactly the wrong person.  
disclaimer: I own nothing except this trustworthy 400 MHz laptop. But I really would want to own Thirteen - I don´t, so she will randomly appear in my fiction.**

A/N: this is not betaed, maybe that was a mistake, so who finds a mistake may keep it. Please R&R, I need it so bad.  


**Innocence**

_Cafeteria. Thirteen is sitting alone at a table, sandwich in one hand, cellphone in the other. She´s typing when Wilson spots her and comes over._

"May I join you?"

Thirteen stares at him and instantly pauses chewing and typing. "oh, sure."

"Look, I am a little worried about House," Wilson explained:"I remember the last time he got involved with a married woman and I don´t want him to be that miserable again."

Thirteen looked puzzled. "What exactly are you talking about?"

"It´s O.K., he obviously found out who your girlfriend is and I think he is grumpy because he´s also interested. I would like to know who she is and he won´t tell me. And I don´t know why, he tells me everything, he really must be in trouble. I promise your secret is save with me."

Thirteen looked like she just had an epiphany. She stood, stuffed the remainings of her sandwich in her pocket and looked down on Wilson: "You´re completely clueless, aren´t you? You are a moron, when you´re so close to him and haven´t noticed what this is about. Maybe you should worry more about your own relationship than about mine or his."

She left and Wilson was bewildered. What was that supposed to mean? Everything between him and Amber was peachy. He rubbed his neck and returned to his office. He could still talk to House again – wait – no, House would either be too proud or too stubborn to tell him. Maybe he should get him drunk someday.


	7. domestic bliss

**rating: PG-13 (I mentioned sex and nearly naked Wilson)  
pairing: Wilson/Amber, hints of House/Wilson  
warnings: brief het – I am disgusted that I wrote it, but it is slight  
summary: distracted!Wilson and the magic appearance of music sheets  
disclaimer: I own nothing except this trustworthy 400 MHz laptop. But I really would want to own Thirteen - I don´t, so she will randomly appear in my fiction.**

A/N: this is not betaed, but my muse was forced me to post. Please R&R, I need it so bad.

**domestic bliss**

Wilson´s day had been exceptionally bad. First all his attempts to find out about House´s crush had been in vain and later in the afternoon one of his youngest patients had died during a routine operation. He had spent at least an hour after that telling the parents he was so sorry and that this had been completely unexpected. Sometimes specializing in oncology was really crap. But he was looking forward to a nice and soothing evening with Amber, wine and sensual sex.

When he opened the door, he heard the sounds of Amber´s old piano, that she had moved to their apartment two weeks ago. He shed his coat and shoes and flopped down onto the couch for a while to listen without her noticing him. The music was definitely extraordinary, nothing like the Bach pieces she used to practice with nearly manic eagerness. In fact it was not a classic piece, it was something he couldn´t really define, not as sad as blues, not as hard as rock and not as overblown as Tschaikowsky or Schubert and it was in every way bittersweet. In fact it tore at his heart strings like nothing he had ever heard. It was adorably beautiful and heartbreakingly painful at the same time. It sounded just like love felt - passionate, vulnerable, sometimes sad but soft like velvet. The sound was soothing and comforting and so sensual it gave him goosebumps.

He got up, walked over, still captured by the notes expelled by the instrument.

Amber noticed his footsteps, flinched a little, but continued, smiling at him.

"Oh my god, this is so adorable. Where does this come from? I don´t think I have ever heard something similar." Wilson was reminded of the expression on House´s face when he had admired the savant ´s piano creations.

Amber didn´t answer, but played the last notes and closed the lid. Slamming it shut would have been too suspicious. Fortunately it was easy to distract Wilson now and come up with a clever explanation later. She captured Wilson´s lips in a demanding kiss. Wilson let himself be led to the bedroom. When they fell back on the mattress later, sated and exhausted, Wilson looked over to Amber:

"You haven´t answered my question earlier."

"Hm?"

"Who wrote that piece?"

"Oh, that...", she grinned smugly: "House wrote it."

"You´re kidding me."

"No, he left it on his office desk and it was mixed up with my application papers I got back. I found it when I sorted them this morning. I thought I´d try them out."

"They are brilliant. I have to ask him when he wrote them."

Amber reacted a little too fast: "No! He might think I stole them. They are old, probably he wrote them for Stacy. Leave it be, I will drop them in one of his drawers the other day when he doesn´t notice."

"O.K.," Wilson smiled and went to sleep.

At night he was woken by a car alarm system outside. After tossing and turning he decided to get up, so he wrapped one of the blankets around himself and walked over to the living room. He sat down on the piano bench and opened the lid. When he inspected the sheets, he recognized House´s awful handwriting. He grazed the paper with his fingertips and studied it. It was obviously written in a flow, nothing had been corrected – like it had directly poured out of his mind or – more likely – out of his heart. Music sometimes seemed to be the only way House could express something inside his sarcastic shell. He turned the page and found something written on it. He looked closer and furrowed his brow to get a better view: "for" - that word was decipherable and there was a "W" at the end. But what the hell was that letter in between? Should be an "S", no, never. Wilson switched on a lamp in the corner and carried the sheet over. That was a "J". He held his breath and read again: "for J.W.". Was there anyone with the same initials? No. Wilson was flabbergasted.

He couldn´t believe House wrote something that beautiful and never told him about it. Then it dawned on him. No, that could not be. That had been clearly the sound of a love-song. Amber herself had suggested it might have been for Stacy. Why would she lie? Probably she had not read the writing on the backside. Yeah, House was straight as an arrow. And so was he. But what if...? His mind started racing. That was ridiculous. It was 5 a.m. and he sat in the living-room wearing nothing but a satin blanket and wondered about the sexual orientation of his best friend, that he used to know for nearly 20 years. He rubbed his neck.

If someone could help him with that, it was Thirteen. Maybe he could talk to her again.


End file.
